How To Love
by Pebble900
Summary: Glowpaw is a young apprentice of SunClan, a Clan of cats with wings and powers that rule the forest. Terror is an evil rogue who recently lost his father, leaving him in charge of his mother, sister, and The Cave and destroying SunClan. When an unstable power turns Glowpaw into a puppet of Terror, can she get away? Or will he capture her heart with the greatest power of all? Love.


**A/N**

**Hey, guys! It's Pebble900! This is my first serious Warriors FanFiction. I had started one, but I lost a respect for it and inspiration for it. This story is inspired by a popular pairing from a Warriors roleplay. That being said, I DO NOT own some of these characters;**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Warriors. It rightfully belongs to Erin Hunter, and Harper Collins Publishing. I aslo don't own several characters. Sin belongs to EmeraldSunPony on DeviantArt. Rockkit belongs to a good friend of mine, Mini. Terror belongs to WarriorCatsQueen on DeviantArt. That means all the other cats are Original Characters, or have been adopted off the WillowClan forum. Remember if you ever need cats, go the WillowClan thread Adopt-A-Kitty for plenty of options from Warriors to loners to Tribe cats.**

**WARNING: This story includes cats with wings and magical powers, otherwise known as sparkle cats. If you do not approve of this, please to not rage in a review, and simply stop reading here. I do not want to hear about your hate, thank you very much. Rated T just to be safe!  
**

A small black and white tom followed his father through the maze of  
tree branches in the birch grove. He hissed at first when the twigs  
snagged on his long fur, but after some disciplinary actions from the  
large tom guiding him through the winding treetops, he resorted to  
grumbling some foul language and wishing he was back at the cave with  
his sister, practicing death blows on old fish bones.

Despite the constant agitation of the birch trees pulling at his  
fluffy pelt, he was relatively calm. The young tom needed to observe  
everything he could in the new place, for his father said they'd face  
many foes in these trees so it's be best to know them better than the  
opponent. He wondered if maybe a young cat would wander their way  
under their claws. Oh, how he was itching to spill a little Clan blood  
with his fighting skills.

As the father and son pairing continued to trek their way through the  
branches of the birch grove, a yowl rang through the woods, not far  
from the two cats. "What in the heavens was that?!" said the younger  
tom, alarmed by such a sound.

"If I remember correctly from the fateful day you and your sister  
joined the cave," recalled the older tomcat, almost sarcastically. "That would be  
the cry of a birthing queen. And not that far from us, if my ears are  
as sharp as they used to be." The black and white tom looked up into  
his fathers different colored eyes, wondering if this was going where  
he thought it was headed. "Why not pay the Clan queen a little visit?  
Give her a bit of a scare."

The younger tom growled in agreement with his father, perking his  
ears in the hopes of locating the queen. After a few moments of  
silence between the toms, both listening closely to the yowling queen,  
the smaller of the two cats pointed with his tail in the direction of  
the yowls. "That way."

The toms stalked through the trees as if they'd been hunting down prey  
through the woodland. They crept closer and closer, until they  
could see the queen from above. The younger tom flinched at the sight  
of the cat; her gray fur was ruffled from stress, but that didn't  
compare to her outstretched wings; feathers frayed, flapping  
uncontrollably. It made the fluffy tom sick. The idea that cats had  
wings was outlandish! But the ones he could never manage to forget.  
Their powers with fire and water and weather. His mother called those  
kind of cats spirit cats. She said that SunClan was just a group of  
spirit cats that thought they were superior. They wanted to purify  
their kind. They bullied the rogues living peacefully in the area for  
enough land to suit the needs of perfecting their powers.

He watched the queen closely, trying to pick out what her powers might  
be. But after watching her thrash and yowl helplessly for a while, it  
became prominent that she had none. There was always a cat that was  
born without powers, just wings. And vise versa of course.

"She doesn't have powers," the younger tom whispered to his father.  
"She's weak enough I could take her."

"Not yet, Terror," the older tom hissed, "let her kit. Then we kill  
the exhausted queen, and take the kits back to the cave. If they're  
salvageable. Or maybe slaughtering them would bring more of a  
pleasure?"

Terror grumbled in disapproval, but nodded in understanding. They were  
lucky the Clan's territory was so large, it might not be until  
moonrise that a search party makes it out to the grove.

The queen yowled awhile longer as the two toms sat patiently waiting  
for their time to strike. Not much time passed before Terror could  
tell she was writhing in pain, and the first kit was being born. The  
black and white tom watched with beady eyes as a little white kit with  
gray spots on her head and paws and gray smudged wings slid onto the  
grass. The queen's motherly instincts kicked in quickly as she scooped  
the kit in close to her, grooming her little bundle. Terror watched  
the tiny newborn as it cried for it's mother, looking through the  
woods with it's blue eyes. For a short moment, the kit's eyes found  
Terror's locking into his gaze. Terror watched in confusion as the  
kit's eyes flashed green, but quickly returned to blue as it looked  
away.

The young tom gave his chest fur a couple of licks when he heard his  
father speak. "Now."

Terror glanced up at his father, only to notice he was already  
slinking down the tree trunk. Not knowing what else to do, the black  
and white tom simply followed. The light gray queen lifted her head  
suddenly, causing Terror to stop, nervous.

"Sin," she hissed, wrapping her tail around the kit, her wings outstretched.

"Well, it seems you clan cats have come to recognize me by name," Sin  
smirked, his tail lashing.

As the cats continued their little chat, Terror tried to climb back up  
the trunk, backing out in fear. He reached his front left paw up,  
claws extended to grab the nearest branch, though the young tom fumbled slightly, claws  
sliding out of the bark. Not prepared to bare all his weight, his  
other three paws slip from their grasp on the tree, and he plummeted  
to the ground.

Sin jumped a little, startled by the sudden thud behind him. "What are  
you doing?!" he hissed at his son. Terror widened his eyes in fear,  
not expecting the outburst from the orange-black tom.

"Who is this?" the light gray she cat queried, a bit less fearful now  
to see the big bad rogue was accompanied by a kit. She scanned the  
black and white tom, noticing something red under the fur around his  
neck. "Is that a _collar_?"

Terror paused for a moment. _That collar once belonged to me_, Sin had  
said to the tom moons ago. _My father gave it to me because as the_  
_oldest son; I was to inherit the cave_. Never did he think it would  
bring him humiliation.

Sin gave an audible sigh, stepping closer to the queen, flashing his  
long claws in her face, the sun glinting off them, and reflecting in her fearful eyes. "Though he bares a collar, don't doubt the  
wounds he will inflict onto you," he snarled.

The queen growled lowly, "you must be desperate if you're going to the  
lengths of recruiting _kittypets_ for your band of rogues."

Terror raised an eyebrow at the word 'kittypet'. He knew about those  
twoleg toys; seen them outside their oversized nests. Tired of this  
discrimination, the tom decided it was time to do something bold.

"Oh so you think you're so superior?" he snarled, baring his teeth.  
"Because you're a mighty Clan cat! I bare a collar, thus I'm a  
_kittypet_. How stereotypical." Terror was boiling with rage now. He  
couldn't even tell wether his father approved, or wanted him to back  
off at this point, he was so angered. "Would a kittypet do _this_?!"

With a lunge, he snatched the winged kit's scruff, yanking the  
suckling newborn from it's mother. The kit gave a whine of protest,  
it's little wings and paws flailing feebly. Making a run for the  
bushes, Terror heard the queen yowl in rage. The tom only ran faster,  
for he was beginning to pick up on more snarls and hissing, indicating  
his father had taken advantage of his son's actions to attack the  
queen.

Once a good distance away from the clearing, Terror stopped. Still  
being a kit himself, the little bundle in his jaws was growing very  
heavy. Dropping the newborn in the brush, he watched it squeal and  
roll in confusion. The thought had not occurred to him yet of just  
what exactly he was to do with the kit.

Tired of watching the bundle roll, Terror wrapped his tail around it,  
hoping it wouldn't go too far this time. Unexpectedly, the kit  
recognized the warmth, and wiggled its way closer to the tom. Terror  
narrowed his eyes in disgust as it crawled next to him, and tried to  
bat it away with a paw. But the persistent kit continued, and settled  
itself under the tom's fluffy belly fur.

Terror compressed a sigh, knowing their wasn't much left to do. After  
all, the little fur ball just wanted the warmth. He looked down on it,  
curled up between his paws. The little kit squealed again, probably  
realizing this wasn't it's mother, and lifted its head. It's tiny blue  
eyes barely open.

The little kit met Terror's gaze again, their eyes locking on one  
another like before. Again, the kit's eyes flashed green, the same  
shade as Terror's. But this time, they stayed. The tom flinched in  
confusion. Could this kit, unlike its mother, have another one of  
those demonic powers, like it's Clanmates? The kit gave a shrill meep,  
most likely not pleased the tom had no milk to offer.

Terror knew he couldn't hold onto this kit. His mother would never  
agree to feed it; sometimes she wouldn't even feed her son. She always  
did prefer Thunder, her precious daughter over the tom cat. Though his  
father would want him too, Terror just couldn't bring himself to kill  
the newborn. The best thing to do would be to drop it off with a  
patrol.

Picking up the little bundle, it occurred to the white and black tom  
that the battle cries had silenced. Not only that, but Sin's scent was  
near; he had come looking for his son.

As carefully as he could, Terror placed the kit back under his paws,  
wrapping it in his tail over to cover the bundle from sight. Unsure  
wether or not is father would believe just this, he ripped some white  
tufts out of his tail, placing them precariously between his claws.  
Sliding out his claws, he groomed between the pads on the underside of  
his paw, to look as if he was riding them of the kit blood.

Sin slunk through the birch branches, only leaping down from the great  
tree tops when he spotted the fluff ball that was his son. "Queen's  
dead," he said plainly and bluntly. Not shocked the least, Terror  
nodded, continuing to lick between his pads. "How's about that kit?  
Was it disposed of? There's no sense to taking back only one."

The young tom paused, placing his paw down, but making sure to show  
off the fur tufts between his claws. "It's dead," he meowed, "tossed  
the carcass in the brook. Made sure it went a ways down stream, out of  
Clan land. So it wouldn't be stumbled across easily."

Sin narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then nodded. "Smart thinking. Glad  
to know I have a son after my own heart. What a shame though you  
couldn't kill that queen with me." Terror hung his head in  
disappointment, actually wishing he could've just killed the queen  
instead of having to hide the kit from his father, lying about it's  
death.

Sin however couldn't look more proud. "Oh, what our future will hold,  
my son! Just imagine! Us! Conquering the Clan together! All of this  
prey rich land ours for the taking!" Terror felt excitement tingling  
in his chest. He didn't care about the lies. If the future was as  
bright as his father predicted-

"What's that _horrendous_ stench?!" Sin's disgusted tone broke his  
thoughts. Terror tilted his head, not picking up anything. "Ugh!  
You're covered in newborn kit scent!"

The young tom's eyes widened, suddenly aware of the strong smell on  
his fur. "Sunset will never let you bring that into the cave! Go wash  
up in the brook, I'll meet you back on our territory." With that,  
Terror nodded as his father padded off through the trees.

Once he was certain his father was far gone, the tom let out a huge  
sigh, unaware he had been holding his breath the whole time Sin was  
present. Terror stood up. The little kit had fallen asleep in the  
grass, it's fur glowing brightly. Another demonic spirit cat power.

Terror climbed the nearest birch tree, the kit clasped tightly in his  
jaw, and made his way back in the direction of the dead queen. Weaving  
through the branches, this time not even noticing the ones stabbing at  
his pelt, he returned to the clearing.

To Terror's great surprise, three cats stood around the queen's limp  
body, morning. As quietly as he could, the tom slinked down the tree,  
not wanting to noticed. To his dismay, he failed to noticed the ground  
was littered with thin twigs from is previous slip on a tree in that  
same clearing. The little twigs snapped quietly, but crisply, making a  
hard to miss _crunch_.

One of the two tom cats spun around, his eyes falling on a white tom  
with black splotches, looking barely older than five moons. A tiny  
white and gray winged kit dangled in his jaws.

"What brings you to our territory?" he snapped, his gingery red  
feather wings bristling.

The young tom dropped the kit on the ground, snarling, "Relax, I've  
simply come to return this," he motioned toward the kit with his tail.  
"It belong's to the queen. She kitted the scrap before her death."

"How do we know you didn't kill Glowingmoon?" growled the she cat. She  
didn't have wings like the two toms, although she seemed unusually  
strong and muscular.

"Dewfall, I highly doubt a kit like him could kill Glowingmoon,"  
soothed the other tom, the quietest and last to speak.

"You never know Branchfoot," said the first tom with an orange tabby  
pelt, unconvinced by the argument. "Kits can be misleading."

"Now how likely is that, Thundersky?" retorted Branchfoot, rolling his  
eyes. "Look at him with his collar! He's obviously not a rogue or  
loner. He's barely a threat."

Terror flinched, taken aback again. Was it seriously so uncommon for a  
forest cat to have a collar? Impatient now, he lashed his tail back  
and forth. "Are you going to take the kit or not? Cause I could just  
drown it in the brook if you don't want it."

Branchfoot glanced at Thundersky, and sighed. "We'll take it. After  
all, Streamfern just kitted. I'm sure she can handle one more."

Terror nodded and pushed the white bundle towards the clan cats,  
turning tail before clawing up the tree.

"A she kit... Why does she have green eyes?" one of the toms muttered.  
"Kits her age should have blue eyes."

Terror stopped half way up the tree, while the clan cats continued to  
question her odd eyes. "By the way," he started. "Her name is Glow.  
For her mother. And her pelt."

With that, the young tom vanished  
into the tree tops.

**Thanks for reading! A review would be greatly appreciated, follows and favorites even more. The allegiances will be posted next chapter, they aren't quite finished yet. Constructive critizium will be greatly appreciated, for I'd love to know ways to improve my writing. However, I cannot say the same for haters. If you wanna hate, go do it in your own private place, not here. I do not want to be sitting around, feeling like a terrible person because of some flames. I am a sensitive, almost-14-year-old, who just wants to practice her craft. Thanks again! ;D**

**-Pebble out**


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